


Twenty - Five

by notjustmom



Series: The Boys in Sussex [26]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, F/F, F/M, M/M, Retirement, Sussex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 00:59:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12594492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: Happy Birthday, sweet friend. XOXOX





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PatPrecieux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, sweet friend. XOXOX

Sherlock looked up from raking the pile of leaves and nodded. "Time to go?"

Mrs. Hudson shrugged. "You, of all people know, I am a creature of habit." She touched his face and he smiled at her. "One day, I'll - when I get 'old' and if you still - oh, don't you dare. Puppy eyes don't work on me, young man."

"Yes, they do." 

"Yes, alright. Sometimes. 50/50? Never mind."

"You know we will always want you to be here with us, but only when you are ready. And you will never be a burden. Not ever." Sherlock kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her. "You are very important, Mrs. H. To both of us. Without - you gave us a home when -"

Mrs. Hudson pulled away slightly and shook her head at him. "Stop, now, you're going to make me all gooey-eyed. Mycroft is sending a car - it will be here after tea."

"That soon?"

"Mrs. Turner, you know, she -"

"Needs you, I know." 

"You. You know you are -"

"I know. Me too." 

Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat and adjusted her hair. "I told Grace I would help her with the scones, tell her my secret, hers are decent, I've just had a bit more practice."

"Uhmhmm. I'll be in soon, save a couple for me?"

"I will." She pulled her sweater around her shoulders and shivered. "The weather's turning."

Sherlock nodded. "We'll be fine."

"I know, Sherlock." She pulled a stray leaf from his hair and smiled softly at him. "I know." She turned on her heel and went back towards the house as the winds picked up and the sky grew dark. 

"We'll be just fine." Sherlock muttered at the clouds.

 

Harry sat at her desk and closed her eyes. Too many kids. Just too many kids, with too many horror stories. She took a breath and turned on her phone.

"Johnny?"

"Harry?"

"Do you have room at the inn?" She tried smiling, but failed.

"Of course. Harry -?"

"Can't, just need to be - just need to watch some clouds, need to be still."

"We'll have dinner ready when you get here."

"Thanks, kiddo."

"Love you."

"Yeah. Gotta go." Harry ended the call, turned off the phone, and laid her head down on her desk for a moment, then shook her head, and turned on her phone again. "Love? Pack a couple bags for Sussex. Yeah, today - just need to go home."

 

17 September -

John -

I am not a poet, rather, I normally find it difficult to put the why of us into words. At least a string of words that make sense - but I needed to write it out for some reason today. I watched you with Mrs. H today at tea, how the two of you were telling Grace the old stories, how you laughed and she tried not to, how gentle you were with her as she hugged you goodbye - I didn't know how important it was to me for the two of you to make your peace with each other... I did know how hard it was for you back then, after - but you stayed, for me, damn. I think you wonder sometimes what I see in you. Every day, I see your strength, and your kindness. Kindness isn't soft, it is difficult at times, you taught me how to - you made me understand - loving someone takes guts, and patience and sometimes it means surrendering. I don't know if that's the right word, but I think it's harder to love when we hold on to things. I have watched you let go of so much anger, so much pain. I can actually see it now, when you take a breath and your eyes - your eyes soften - it's - you are my husband, my lover, but I think, more importantly, you are my teacher, John. I have learned so much about how to love simply by being loved by you. You gave me new eyes, John, the day you told me you loved me for the first time.

I just reread what I've written for the third time and it seems like so much rubbish, but I think you will understand. I hope you do anyway. You are so very precious, John. I hope you know, just by looking in my eyes, how I reach for you, how important you are to me, how so very loved you are. I love you, John.

\- S

 

Sherlock looked up as he heard the sound of car doors slamming. He laid down his pen and walked over to let Harry and Clara in. 

"Harry -"

"Sherlock." Sherlock took the bag from her hand and put it down, then opened his arms to her and held her gently as she leaned forward into his chest.

"It's okay."

She shook her head.

"No -"

"Come on, dinner's just about ready, John and Grace are out with Gertrude -" He looked over at Clara who shrugged. "Curry night, you have time to rest, you know it's better if it sits for a while. You're home, Harry." He tightened his arms around her as he felt her shake against him. "You're safe, Harry, you're safe. I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock helped Harry to the table and put on the kettle. She snorted then took a breath and let it out as she felt Clara's hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, that's so not cool. Tea would be lovely." 

"Dinner will be ready whenever you are, there's no rush, Harry." 

"I could use a hot shower," Harry murmured. She met Sherlock's eyes and bit her lip, then whispered as she reached out her hand, "I'm - so -thank you." Sherlock took her hand and shook his head. "Family, Harry. That's why we're here. This is your place, too. You always have a place here. Take your time, and when you're ready -"

Harry leaned over and kissed his cheek, then nodded. "Thank you, any way." Clara picked up their bags, then watched Harry get to her feet and walk slowly to their room. 

"She'll be -" Clara shrugged. "Been a long couple of weeks. Used to be she would - disappear on me - this is the first time she's had somewhere she - we could go, where she felt safe. She just needs to -"

"You don't have to explain, Clara. I know," his voice fell as he turned towards the stove. "I know all too well."

Clara touched his shoulder gently and he nodded at her as she followed Harry and closed the door. He turned off the kettle and reached for the teapot, freezing as he heard John's laughter at the door. Damn. The letter - he should -

"Mum's having a wee chat with Em - they just get here?"

"Uhm - yeah, they are going to rest before dinner." He turned to see John pick up his note. "John - I - "

But John pulled out a chair and fell into it, then began reading the letter in the quick way that he had and Sherlock felt his face flush.

"It's - I'm not sure -"

John just shook his head, as he finished reading, then gently placed the paper back on the table and got to his feet.

"John?" Sherlock tried to focus on something else in the room, say something. Do something that would stop John from responding to such drivel. "I - know it's -"

"I - it's funny, Sherlock. I learned that from you - how to do this - I was afraid to care for anyone, until you showed me how to - in your own unique way, you -" John moved to stand in front of Sherlock and laid his cold fingers in his hair. "Sorry - I, it's getting cold outside -"

Sherlock shook his head and covered John's hands with his own and closed his eyes. He drew in a sharp breath as John simply brought Sherlock's face lower, kissed him softly then rested his forehead against Sherlock's. "It's a beautiful letter, love." They stood quietly for a long moment, until Gertrude scratched at the door. "Think she's a bit hungry."

"Yeah -" Sherlock mumbled. "Right. Water's ready for tea, dinner -"

"Smells amazing. How are they?"

"They need some time, I told them to take all the time they needed. Molly and Greg are still out looking at paint colours with Howard and Phil over at the store - how is it, John, that - I -" He stopped speaking as he saw John's eyes twinkle at him. 

"It is what it is, love, some things just defy explanations."

Sherlock snorted, but he realized John was right, everything about them defied anyone's ability to explain how they, why they were as they were, especially their own.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry toyed with the idea of staying in bed for a week, but was dissuaded by the sounds of laughter and the scent of breakfast emanating from the kitchen. Clara was happy, she thought, and closed her eyes again and let an idea take hold; she had a family who welcomed her home, she finally had a place filled with people who cared for her no matter what. She made herself get out of bed, shower, and throw on a pair of sweats and the comfy sweater she had tossed into her overnight bag.

"Morning, Harry." John got up from the table and poured her a mug of tea, placing it carefully into her hands, as he kissed her cheek. "How did you sleep?"

She looked into her brother's smiling, but worried eyes, and surprised herself by admitting, "better than I have in years, kiddo. Thanks."

"Good. I know they aren't as good as yours, but Sherlock and I threw together a fry - up, and -"

Harry closed her eyes and took a breath, then hummed happily. "Beans on a Tuesday, the very height of decadence." She grinned at John and dropped into the chair next to Clara. "Morning, love." 

Clara kissed her gently and draped an arm around her shoulder. "Morning, sweet. Greg, and Molly, this is Harry, my better half."

Harry blushed as she quietly thanked Sherlock for the plate he put down in front of her. "I don't know about better, older and grumpier, yes -" She tasted the beans and closed her eyes. "These are brilliant, Sherlock, you'll have to tell me later what magic you used -" She met Sherlock's eyes and breathed easily for the first time in days; she could sense his own past struggles, and truly understood she was no longer alone.

 

"When did you start?" Harry asked as they sat together on the garden bench in the warm afternoon light. "Damn, sorry - it's none of my business. I just know the look - it never goes away completely. Just tell me to -"

Sherlock shrugged. "It's okay. I was fifteen. I'm one of those people who need a lot to get high - but I started small, just so I could forget - I wanted to forget that I was once happy. My parents died when I was fourteen, and I lost everything - I still had Myc and my nana, but my parents, they were the ones who loved me for what, who I was - I didn't really feel that again until John. Sorry - a bit off-topic. And then when I was sixteen, my nana died, it was expected, but that was it for me. I left home, and tried in various ways and doses to stop feeling anything. Greg was the one who found me, helped me stay clean, tried to anyway..." his voice trailed off as he watched Gertrude dart after a butterfly.

"What do you do now when you just want everything to stop?" Harry whispered.

"John. I let him, I don't know, he lets me be still, if that makes any sense. I don't have to do or be anything. Sometimes we talk it out, most of the time we are just together, back when we did cases, he would try to make sure I ate and slept, but it was usually just his presence that made things untangle? Is it one of your kids?"

Harry nodded, "One truly awful case, but I've dealt with worse... he just reminds me of -"

"John."

She blinked at him. "Yeah, even looks like him, blond, blue eyes, tough kid - same look in his eyes, I still see that look on bad days, even on good days, if I'm not busy enough, if I take a breath and just sit, I don't have to be asleep, it's usually when I'm wide awake - I know it sounds crazy -" Harry muttered as she looked at her hands.

"No." Sherlock shook his head. "Even here, I have times when things find me - Z would call them my 'ghosts' I suppose, but it feels like I go somewhere else, in my head, it's more a somewhen else. Usually John is here, talks me back -"

"Does he know what you see, have you told him?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Not always, but he will nudge me when he can tell I need to tell him. Sometimes, it's from when he was hurt, but there are times when I don't even know exactly what it is, I just, I don't know, stop, you know like when your computer freezes, and you have to reboot?" She nodded, and he went on. "But there are things - he's never going to know, because I can't bring them out?" He watched the flash of recognition in her dark blue eyes. "I do have days when I can't get out of bed, and he is there, and I've finally reached the point where I know he's there not out of pity or guilt, but because I'm where he wants to be." 

He stopped for a moment, and took a breath, then met her eyes again, and let it out slowly. "I hope you know, Harry, you don't have to be a certain way when you're here. Sure, there's always leaves to rake or wood to chop if you want to do busy work to clear your head, but if you want to stay in bed for a week, to work things out for yourself, know that no one here will judge you for that. We all heal differently; Grace sits up in the treehouse for hours at a time, or sits with Em; John will write for hours, only to delete everything the next day and start again, he may some day write a whole book, or not, it's not really the point anymore, I don't think. Just know we are here, when you need us, yeah?" 

Harry nodded, then leaned against his shoulder and blew out a breath as he wrapped his arm around her. "Thank you. You don't know what it means..." She sat up and searched his face, then shook her head. "Hell, of course you do. I'm used to carrying everything - usually I can keep it all squared away, but, this is the first time in my life I knew I had a place to go - and I'd be safe, just never thought it would be my own family."

Sherlock laughed. "Yeah, funny how life goes sometimes, hmm? Want to go for a walk?"

"Nope, need to go find Clara." She stood up and kissed his cheek. "You're a peach, Sherlock. I'm so glad that you're here."

"Me too, Harry." He grinned at her, then saw her eyes crinkle at him before she started laughing, her brother's laugh - John's full belly laugh. And suddenly, he realized he needed -

"Let's go find them, yeah?" Harry helped him to his feet and they walked arm in arm back to the house.


	4. Chapter 4

19 September -

I wonder when I will stop being amazed by my family, Em. We had a huge dinner at the farm tonight, everyone, even Davey, you remember Davey - Davey with the Wave, you always called him, he was there, he's the barber, notary and minister now, and - anyway - Howard had to bring a couple of tables and a dozen chairs from the church, so everyone had a seat - I can't remember the last time, there was such pure joy and laughter - and music in the house. Sherlock, after some gentle teasing, and a double dare from Harry, you should have seen the look he gave her - he got out his violin, and Howard 'just happened' to have his fiddle in his truck... right... I watched John as Sherlock played, the complete adoration on his face - Sherlock was playing for him, I knew from, I just knew - and at the end, he played one song that he had composed - he apologized for 'the roughness' but we were all in tears by the time the last note ended. Harry was holding Clara's hand, Molly and Greg were standing together, swaying to the music - Z and Glady - you know how she is, she's sweet and tough. I've never seen her cry before - but I saw tears streaming down her face as she listened to him play, and I understood - it wasn't just for John. He had played - he had written everyone into his music, there were no words - but - at the end - everyone stood in silence, and Sherlock moved to find his place with John, but Glady stopped him and took him into her arms, and slowly everyone joined in. I've not known him all that long, but I saw his face - it was as if he hadn't known how important he had become to everyone, how loved he was - he looked completely shattered, but in a good way, not sure if that makes sense, but... he and John have, they have brought the village back to life, Em - I wish - no, I know you were there, love,

 

"You okay, love?"

Sherlock looked over at John and nodded. "I'm fine. No, really - it feels like tonight, I finally caught my breath, maybe that's not quite right, but I feel like I stopped running - I don't even know what I was running from - or maybe I was running to something - ever since - and I know, our time together, our lives here, can still be measured in weeks and months, not even a year yet, John, since you nearly - I feel like I've been trying to sprint through a marathon, and tonight - I knew I could stop trying so hard - I didn't even know, I guess I thought if I stayed still too long, I'd - I - it's like when my knee locks up, or your hand - if I sit and think, or even just sit - it will be gone, everything we've built will vanish - but tonight, it became real."

John nodded and reached for him, pulling him tightly against his chest. "I know, love - you are remarkab - brilliant, simply - breathtaking, my love."

"It isn't me -"

"Of course it is."

Sherlock shook his head then and kissed John's shoulder, silently working his way to John's lips, grinning as he felt John shiver. "It's us, John, tonight was about us and them, we became part of them tonight - I watched Harry and Clara and Molly and Greg, Grace - our family is bigger now, John, it's like in the Velveteen Rabbit - it was one of my mum's favourites, she used to read it to me so often, I - I had forgotten until tonight when Glady reached for me, I became real, John, we became real - 

"' 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.' ” * 

John bit his lip but nodded. "I know - I saw - you, I heard you - oh, love." He threaded his fingers into Sherlock's curls, and watched the tears fall. "You have always, always been real to me, love. And not in the worn out, softened way - you were real when you still had all your edges and thorns, you have just become something - we have become something new, something so strong, but fiercely soft. You are so - I can't think of myself without - thinking of us - you - damnit."

"God - I love you, John Watson." Sherlock whispered as he lowered himself over John and they sighed silently together. "I love you so much."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * from 'The Velveteen Rabbit,' by Margery William Bianco


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock -

Last night I found it hard to sleep, the familiar London background noise was a bit much after the few nights in Sussex, I will readjust, but I understand why you love it there. I'm sure others have told you, but there is something a bit otherworldly about Bliss. Not ghosts, or spirits precisely, there is just something mystical about that place. I'm saying it badly, but you know what I mean.

Yes, I will definitely be there for Myc and Alicia's wedding at Christmas, I never thought both of my boys would find people who appreciated your gifts, and your love. You both have so much love in you, I'm just pleased you both have partners who love just as deeply. I've had a couple dinners with Myc and his 'betrothed' - his word. She rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head, but I see how she looks at him; it's how John looks at you...

 

Sherlock blinked at the letter in his hand and looked up at Gladys as she came out onto the porch. "What on earth do I get for John for Christmas?"

"What brought that up all of a sudden?"

"Mrs. Hudson mentioned Myc's wedding, it's our first real Christmas together, I mean, we've spent Christmases together, but not -"

"As a married couple."

Sherlock nodded and looked down at his hands. "I wasn't always - there were times when I wasn't kind to him, especially at Christmas."

"I don't think he -"

"I was -"

Gladys sat down next to him and shook her head. "You were. You are not that person now."

"But, I am, I still -"

"No, sweetheart. I have been around, a few years now, and I know a few things. Used to be I didn't believe that people can truly change. I've been proven wrong in the last few months, not just once, but twice. I had an idea about who you were from John's blog and the press, and I probably wasn't far off in my estimation; arrogant, perhaps more than a bit of an arsehole, and had no consideration for most human beings, though you loved John with everything you had."

"You could tell that?"

Gladys nodded. "Oh, yes, I could read between the lines, and I knew how he felt about you, unreliable narrator though he was, he tried to keep his feelings out of it - but the day I met you - you were charming, utterly charming, but anyone can be, for a few minutes, but then I saw you with John, how he looked at you, and how your eyes lit up when you talked about bees, I may be a bit biased, but I've never met an arsehole who loves bees with the passion that you do."

"Who was the second?"

"Hmm?"

"You said you were proven wrong twice?"

"Grace."

"Grace?"

Gladys turned away and sighed. "By the time she left, I thought her, well, honestly, she was always a bit spoiled, being the youngest and their 'miracle baby.' Z spoiled her the worst and wouldn't hear a thing against her, she spent most of her life tending to Em, and now I know what a toll that takes on a person, but then, I was raising a houseful mostly on my own, Z had the practice was always busy - and then she left, and so I had a long time to have built up my picture of her. It wasn't charitable - I can hold a grudge, but, when she came back, and I saw how sweet she was with John, and you, and when I realized she was back for good, I saw -"

"Is it possible that you had changed, more than she had?"

"What?"

Sherlock smiled at her gently, and took her hand. "Is it just possible that you were a bit jealous that she got to leave, while you weren't able to? I'm not saying you didn't love your life here, but I can imagine. She was in her twenties, and off on a 'romantic adventure.' At least that's what you thought." He muttered under his breath, "I've known people who have killed for less -"

Gladys laughed and squeezed his hand. "You must have been something back when you had no filter, my dear."

Sherlock muttered, "you have no idea, Gladys. You must have wanted to do something when you were young that would have taken you out of the village."

"Not really."

"Glady - tell me?"

"I wanted to go to Paris, even after the war, I wanted to be an artist, I could paint, I mean, really paint - I had gone to London once, as a birthday treat and I went to the National Gallery and I saw Seurat's work - oh, Sherlock - I wanted to live in that painting, I just stared at that one painting, I'd still be staring at it if I had my way -" She looked over at Sherlock and whispered. "I've never told anyone that - not even Z, he was, he didn't think -"

"You and Z are going to Paris for Christmas, Gladys."

"Sherlock - no. What with the wedding... and -"

"And what?"

"I -"

"John and I will escort you and Z to Paris after the wedding, day after Christmas." Sherlock kissed her forehead and hopped up from his chair. "It's perfect. John has never seen Paris. Do not say no, and let's keep it a surprise? We'll find the most bohemian place we can, and spend a week, a whole week in Paris, Glady. See everything... it's perfect!" He flew down the steps and whistled for Gertrude who came dashing out of the store. "In the truck, Gert, things to do."

Gladys sat on the porch and wondered at the tears streaming down her face. "You are just a silly old lady, Gladys Moses."

"What are you on about, Glady?" Z pushed open the door and walked over to her. "Tears? What's going on, G? Talk to me, girl."

"It's nothing, Sherlock just reminds me - of when we were young, when I - when we - it's nothing. I need to start planning on the food for the wedding -" She got up and kissed him softly then cleared her throat. "So much to do..."

"It's only September, and it's just the village and -"

Gladys sighed and shook her head.

"I love you, G."

She stopped and looked at him curiously. "I love you, too, Z. I'll let you know when lunch is ready."

 

"Grace! GRACE!" Sherlock barged through the kitchen door, almost out of breath.

"What is it? Is John okay? Z? Sherlock -" She got up from the table and went over to where he collapsed in a chair.

"No, everyone's fine. I just figured out what to do for Christmas. I'm taking John and Gladys and Z to Paris - we'll leave after the wedding, once Mycroft and Alicia are off on their honeymoon. I had to tell someone, I want to keep it a surprise. I know I promised John no more secrets, but this doesn't count, does it?" Sherlock's face looked so stricken for a moment that she couldn't help but give him a hug and hold on for a moment, before she pulled away and nodded.

"No, I think this kind of secret is okay, but what brought this up now?"

"I have been trying to think of what to get John for Christmas. Traditionally we suck, I, especially suck at the whole Christmas thing. I wanted our first to be special. Do you think it's a good idea?"

"It's perfect, Sherlock."

He grinned at her then jumped up and gave her a kiss on the cheek before mumbling to himself as he walked out of the room- "tickets, gotta find tickets and figure out where to stay so we're close to the museums.."

"What is he on about, Mum?" Harry asked as she walked into the kitchen.

"Surprise for John - Christmas present."

"He is in love, isn't he?" Harry shook her head as she got out the bread to make toast.

Grace looked up at her and smiled. "Yes, and we are all the better for it."

Harry stopped and met her mum's eyes. "Yes, that we are, Mum. That we are."

 

"Myc?"

"Sherlock?"

"I need a favour -"

"Of course -"

"I am going to take John and Z and Gladys to Paris for Christmas, after we get you and Alicia hitched. I'm just wondering if you have ideas about where we should stay - we could go the posh route, but I was thinking more, uhm, artistic, bohemian - but still safe - if you have any thoughts? I want us to be close to some good museums, the smaller ones, not the obvious places where everyone visits, the special places."

"Hmm... I will see what I can do, Sherlock. What a lovely gift. I'm assuming this is meant to be a surprise for John?"

"Yes, I know I promised, no secrets, but -"

"Understood. I'll send you an email with suggestions, just give me a couple of days? There are elections in - well, never mind."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but asked, "how are you and Alicia these days..."

 

"What's going on, Sherlock?"

He looked up from his reading and met John's eyes. "Why? What do you mean?"

"You're humming a Christmas carol and I haven't seen you this - I don't know, bubbly? Since the day you got your bee suit."

Sherlock sighed and put his book aside. "I don't know how I thought I would get away with it -"

"Away with what?" John narrowed his eyes at him.

"Gladys and I were talking this morning, and I was trying to figure out what to give you for Christmas..."

"Sherlock. I don't, we -"

Sherlock shook his head. "I told her how, well, how I was, back then, and how I wanted to do something special for our first Christmas - and we started chatting and it turns out she had wanted to be an artist, go to Paris, and I decided -"

"What did you decide?" John asked quietly, his eyes suddenly twinkling at him.

"I - we are going to take Gladys and Z to Paris for Christmas, John. I wanted it to be a surprise - Grace and Myc know, because I, well, I was going to explode if I didn't tell someone, and I need Myc's help to find a place for us to stay - he's been there numerous timew, knows the museums - and he knows people and - what?"

"You're so lovely."

Sherlock shook his head. "No I'm not - I just - you make me want to be better, John. I - want - I don't ever - I want to make you forget when I wasn't - when I was awful to you, I remember everything, John and there were times when I wondered..."

"No. Stop. You don't have to prove anything to me, Sherlock." John held Sherlock's face in his hands and sighed. "I love you. I loved you then, I have the feeling -" John stopped and bit his lip.

"What?"

"I just have the feeling I've always loved you - not just now."

"John?"

"There are days, especially recently, since we moved here, when I just have the idea - it's crazy, but I - just feel like we've done all this before. It isn't rational and you must think I've lost my mind -"

Sherlock whispered, "no, John. I don't think you're crazy - I've always felt that way - since the day we met. That I knew you. Had known you, I think that's why it took me so long to tell you how I felt, because it isn't logical - there's no scientific - it goes against everything I know to be true and yet, I - I knew you, John. In ways I couldn't explain, there are things you've always done, just little quirks, and the first time you touched me. I -"

"You were - I was home, Sherlock. Finally - that's why - when you jumped -" John pressed his lips to Sherlock's forehead, and sighed as Sherlock's fingers slipped under his shirt and came to rest over his heart. "Damn..."

"I waited so long, John - for you to find me. But, I was afraid - afraid you wouldn't, didn't remember."

"Oh, Sherlock -" John stopped talking as Sherlock lifted John's shirt over his head, then laid him down carefully on the pillows and gazed into his eyes.

"I've looked into these eyes, your eyes, so many times, through so many lifetimes, John. Each time wondering when you would tell me, that you knew me, that you remembered, this is the first time - the first time - " Sherlock's voice faded as he crumpled against John's chest.

"Love, don't -" John murmured as he held Sherlock in his arms and kissed his curls. "I'm sorry - I'm here, Sherlock. I'm so sorry, love, I'm sorry it took me so long."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the painting I imagine Gladys saw as a child:  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bathers_at_Asni%C3%A8res#/media/File:Baigneurs_a_Asnieres.jpg


	6. Chapter 6

"Tell me..."

"What?" 

"Our first time. The first time we met." 

Sherlock hummed into John's hair for a moment then whispered, "what do you remember?"

"Mostly just flashes, images, words. It's you, but not you, sometimes you're younger, or older, but somehow I know it's you. Usually it's when I'm awake, and you do something or say something, like an echo, not a memory exactly - I don't know how to explain it, I honestly thought I was losing my mind."

Sherlock closed his eyes and held John closer. "The first time I can remember, we met as children; Victoria was queen, our parents were in her household; you went away to war, the Crimean, you didn't make it home... you always go to war, sometimes you make it back, I usually - we usually meet after you return, or right before you are due to leave. This time, our time, now, this is the longest time we've had together. I started seeing you, but not you when I was away, and I realized what we were, and then I came home, and you, you had given up on me, you didn't know, and I didn't understand. I thought if I was beginning to remember again, that you must know, that you knew I wasn't really dead. When you died in the ambulance - it was the first time I was with you - I wasn't - I wasn't ready John, to lose you again."

John sat up and searched Sherlock's eyes. "How, why, - what do we do now? It doesn't make a difference to me, I still feel the same about you, about us. But - why -?"

"Why didn't I tell you? What would you have said if I just blurted out at the restaurant, 'I'm back from the dead, and oh, yeah, we're soulmates, but go ahead and marry her, it's fine?' "

John snorted, then nodded with a grin. "Yeah, okay, I would have thought you had lost every single one of your marbles. Why - why am I seeing it now? Is anyone else - I dunno, with us, do you know what I mean?"

Sherlock nodded. "Gertrude. She's not always a dog, not always named Gertrude, sometimes she's human, she's always female, always. She's kind of our guide - she knows, I dont know, she's attached to you more, usually. When you see things, or hear echoes as you call them, where is she?"

"She's usually at my feet. Oh."

"I think you are seeing it more because we are here, there isn't as much noise, there are less distractions. I know at night, after you fall asleep, I see us, see you more clearly, than I ever have. Sometimes - you know those moments when I sort of leave?"

John nodded again. 

"Sometimes, I'm stuck in one of those other times, you always - it's your presence, your voice that always brings me back here."

"Has there ever been a time when you wanted to stay back there, not leave?"

"Once. When I was away - when - it was - right before Mycroft got me out, I could have, there was a way, but you, the other you told me to go back, that you would - it might take a long time, but eventually we would be more than we could ever have been. This is the first time, John, that we were able to marry, we've always - there was never a time until now, that we have been able to be like this. Together. If you survived whatever war you were in, you always got married, had a small medical practice; I, if I lived long enough, was always a detective, or a scientist, sometimes both."

"Really?" John smiled at him.

"And I raised bees, once, the one time I was old enough to retire, not far from here - a different village."

"No. You - you're kidding."

Sherlock shook his head.

"There should be records, newspapers -"

Sherlock nodded.

"Can we - will you, go with me and see if we can find you?"

"You believe me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because - if I told anyone else, they would have thought I was barmy, out of my mind, on drugs again... " Sherlock closed his eyes and tried to turn away, but John stopped him with a kiss.

"Stop. Look at me, love. I know it's nuts, but I know - I know what I've seen, what I've heard. I know, Sherlock. Somehow, against all reason, we keep finding our way to each other, we don't have to go find the other you - I was just curious - you are enough, what we have now, at this moment is enough for me. I just wonder, why us - what is it about us? That we were given all these chances before, and we nearly didn't make it this time, we've both died, and yet."

"Here we are?" Sherlock murmured against John's lips.

"Here we are."


End file.
